


Wrong

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Tommy didn't text back, and one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

The first time Tommy doesn't text back, Adam shrugs it off. People get busy or forget, whatever, no big deal.

*

The second time Tommy doesn't text back, Adam thinks his phone might be dead. Happens to the best of us. So he tries other methods. Voicemail. Twitter. Email. Even AIM, which he hasn't fired up in ages. Tommy's away, but his message says “brb.” So Adam waits. He waits for a lot longer than he cares to admit, idly sliding his phone from one hand to the other, checking it now and then to see if somehow he's missed a message, seeing only the time staring back at him accusingly. Finally, he slams the phone down and stalks off to his bedroom, throwing himself face down on the bed and cursing himself mentally for being so stupid. In the next moment, his phone makes the familiar beeping sound that means a new text message. _Of course,_ he thinks, hauling himself back up to his feet with a groan, seeking out the phone with over-eager hands.

The automatic text update from the phone company really, really doesn't help his mood.

*

The third time Tommy doesn't text back, Adam wonders if he's done something wrong, made Tommy mad at him in some way. He thinks back over recent days (well, not so recent now, and getting less so by the day), trying to identify what he could possibly have done to make Tommy just stop talking to him completely. But there's nothing. Well. That's not quite true. There's the one thing. The one big elephant-in-the-room thing. But Tommy had been totally fine with it at the time. Really. Adam had made absolutely sure. But now...the not knowing is endlessly frustrating, one minute positive that he's letting Tommy slip right through his fingers, the next rolling his eyes at himself for being so paranoid and neurotic and _possessive_. He resolves to stop thinking about it, stop worrying about it, and above all, _stop texting._

*

The fourth time Tommy doesn't text back, Adam gets angry. Fine, whatever, so Tommy doesn't want to talk. He can go fuck himself. Adam gets all dressed up and goes out and makes sure he gets seen and photographed with lots of pretty boys. He has something sort of resembling fun, though he doesn't think too hard about any of it, and _especially_ doesn't think about the fact that he doesn't even consider taking any of them home.

*

The fifth time Tommy doesn't text back, Adam takes the hint. Gets the memo. Clues in. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it. He closes the door to his room and pulls the covers around himself and cries, and feels disturbingly like a very un-fabulous teenager again.

*

Adam doesn't mean to text Tommy again. He really doesn't. He clicks the wrong name by accident – damn touch screens – and it's not even much of a text, just a quick “ok” in response to dinner plans with his mom. The phone beeps before he's even had a chance to put it down, and Adam peers at the screen curiously. No way his mom typed out a reply that fast, and anyway, their conversation was pretty much over. He actually drops the phone when he sees Tommy's name.

_ok what?_

Adam stares, disbelieving. All that time, all the worry, frustration, fucking _tears,_ and now Tommy finally decides to respond to a text he hadn't even meant to send? And what is he even supposed to say to that? Everything he types out has the word “mistake” in it, and god, he just can't bring himself to send Tommy that word. Even now. Even after a whole week of the silent treatment. He still can't call anything that's happened between them a mistake.

No words look right, not a single one. So Adam takes a deep breath and brings the phone to his ear instead and listens to it ring, trying to remember the last time he actually called Tommy instead of texting. Nothing comes to mind.

“Adam?” Tommy sounds confused.

Adam takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Hi.”

“What's wrong?” Tommy asks.

“I don't know. Is there something wrong? You can tell me, y'know. I won't be mad or anything,” Adam replies, lying through his teeth. He can't think of anything Tommy could say to him right now that wouldn't make him at least a little mad.

“No...” Tommy trails off. “Nothing's wrong. Except I _miss_ you, man. When do I get to see you again?”

Adam grits his teeth. He thinks about bringing up the near-daily texts, the voicemails, the emails, thinks about asking for an explanation. And then, in that moment of quiet, he realizes he can hear Tommy's breathing through the phone, soft and even and _alive,_ and ok, yeah, he's more relieved than he should be to have that confirmation. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, mimicking the sudden near-painful clenching in his chest, and for perhaps the first time, he realizes just how ridiculously in love he is.

“Fuck you, Tommy,” he says into the phone, and his mouth is laughing through it even as his eyes are tearing up. Tommy sounds faux-offended on the other end, but he's laughing, too, and god, he's telling the truth, isn't he? Nothing wrong at all. Not a damn thing.

Adam thinks back over the week he's just had, fucking hell week, every second weighing heavier on him, every moment more and more sure that the best friendship he's had in a long time was completely ruined. He thinks about yelling at Tommy, about making him feel just as bad as he'd made Adam feel by ignoring him, by not even caring enough to send a stupid little text message.

“Wanna see you soon. Now. Miss you too,” he says.

His lips seem to move of their own volition, and as he speaks, he realizes that this could be a sign, an important one. There's something about Tommy, something he can't quite put words to, something that's urged him to let Tommy off the hook every single time, made every frustration seem somehow worth it. And now that thing is under his skin, deep, too deep to quite get out. He wonders what Tommy would have to do – or not do – to push him away for good. He has a feeling that if they continue down this path, he might come to find out.

Adam's suddenly hit with the simple fear that the two of them might be very, very bad for each other. And then that deeply embedded shard under his skin starts to prick at him again, and he's growling things into the phone, things that make him flush even to say, and he can hear Tommy's breathing growing harsh on the other end of the line. And maybe that's the thing about addiction, he thinks. Maybe it's the _wrong_ that makes the sparks in the first place.


End file.
